In Twilight wonder
The faded brilliance left
Me wanting, needing
Something, anything
To fill the void , mitigate
The shadows dwelling in
My sundered existence
Memories of the light
Haunting me, pulling me
Driving me to seek solace
In the walled off places
Hidden in my soul
I chased the spark here and there
Knowing full well the futility of it
As time has taught me the rarity
Of the dawn, once witnessed is unmistakable
Imitation and illusion is not a replacement
It becomes a prison of repetition
A duplication of failure
As I grasp at the real, reach toward the perception
Chase the dream, my mind concocted
As my memory tries in repetitious fashion
To duplicate my experience
To recreate the wonder of it all
To bear witness to the spectacle
The peace that took me as the dawn broke
To purify my tortured journey
Give it purpose, meaning
I traveled long and arduous roads searching
For any place or thing to remind me of that
Moment of Awe, that defined the reason
For standing in the darkness
For being punished for my audacity
To believe I was worthy of the blessing
Of clarity, of being juxtaposed from
A shadowed sub existence to
Having my deepest desire fulfilled
Oh, I have tread this path before to be sure
Even transcended to the light
But , without purpose, without meaning
To give understanding to the moment
It was wasted on a man blinded by ignorance
Stifled by the greed of a miserable past
It prevented the connection to true illumination
Left me empty inside, cold, alone
Each false dawn stole my resolve
Each time the light was taken from me
Destroyed a piece of my spirit until
I was convinced the darkness was all there was
I chased the morning with a longing I can’t readily explain
It has been expressed as brilliance as an awakening
Even a rebirth of sorts, granting new beginnings
However, until you stand witness to it
There are no words to describe
The feeling of the desolation drained
Of the spectacle of sheer joy
You encounter as the loneliness fades
The shadows are banished
Your eyes opened to the wonderous gift
Of the coming dawn
This is what it means to know unconditional love.
This is the actual experience of life.
An Original Poem by H.R. Beebe
Question Tomorrow
Moments of loss is where you found me
In the darkness with shadows all around
You called out to my pain
Promising a moment
Of peace
Though the light shown through the dimness
We connected in those moments
We shared a common heart
A common experience
A union of souls
With time, we bonded
Saw the chance of the future
To share the solace of closeness
The promise of unity
Time , an ever-present enemy
Plotted against the prize
To shear away the dream
Separate the reality from the expectation
Words more words, though, never
Actions, as the present lied
To the future, and the past faded
From view, leaving emptiness
It’s only a result. A byproduct of indifference
Where is the purpose
Where is the hope
Lost in moments spent
Alone
When did the darkness return?
Secrets, like cold drops of acid
Burning away the connections
Threats tearing away the dreams
Stumbling blocks placed in the way
Mere objects, money came to block
Promise, as trust was seared away
Chance, or was it predetermined?
Can love endure? Even unconditionally given? Can caring survive contempt?
When loyalty is offered up as a sacrifice for
personal desire?
Is the broken heart ultimately inevitable ?
When we are told what is coming, should we just accept what we are told? What we are shown.
Is that the point where we must just let go?
What about the promise?
What about the dream?
Are we destined for the pain?
What about our past together?
Have we reached a crossroads of fate?
Can we survive this present where you ask without giving, expect without question?
Do you never wonder if maybe you are wrong?
Question your own motives? Wonder if your viewpoint could have been reached in error?
Will love endure?
Will our dream endure?
Will our relationship endure?
When you act, do you ever
Question tomorrow?
A Shadow Faded
Freedom, shadows in the past
An empty field, nothing standing
Are we living under our own rights
Morality, or Mortality
Whose hand holds the reins
We think we know, yet
Do we , Really?
We appear to be living in the past
In a place, where inalienable
Actually meant something
Hidden, the real, the true
Slaves, without chains
Chains, without links
The secrets, that are not
Shone,
Yet, we are being forced
To our knees
Without , Understanding
A document, in time
To enumerated our future
A number, A line it spelled out
Our freedoms, Our new future
Mankind rejoiced, A future unbridled
Freedom for all, past history to be forgotten
Only to find Our future, was secretly
Hijacked, by those who stood in shadow
We believed our future wasn’t written
Yet, in time, those who could see
Recognized, the same patterns
The same actions
We found, we were enslaved
By the same ideas
That killed, the ideas in the past
The Shadow, of Freedom fading
Until, it ceased to be seen
At all.
An Original Poem by H.R. Beebe
We Stand
I am the one that the Marxist hate
Because I’m White, not racist
They try, to blame me, but they can’t
Americans are family, race isn’t a thing
I follow an idea, called freedom,
With it’s statutes given by God
Spelled out in the Constitution
I believe in the Oath
I believe in the Flag
I support those who have stood
As our vanguard, defending our
beliefs, their souls our bulwark
Their lives our legacy of Freedom
Our colors don’t run, our Liberty
The shield that defends our honor
Though, you may hate our history
You will witness, us Standing in
The end, you may think you succeeded
In squelching the ideas we espouse
But, as the smoke begins to clear
You See us on one knee, your victory
Taken, as you hear us, as one voice
Echoing Amen..
We rise as one, and now the real fight
Has just begun.
An Original Poem by H.R. Beebe
I Watch It Pass
The window shows the scene, a freedom
if you are willing to take it
And, yet most will look on as they sit wishing
their lives away and never experiencing it
So as the view changes, so changes their desire
It leads to sleepless nights, and restless days
At the thought, of the future, the old worries
arise, lost in a past that has worn out it’s welcome
Each sleepless night, I pay homage to the past
As the world changes outside my window
But, I never do…
A Original Poem By H.R Beebe
A Question of Fate
I am in the shadows
A war in my presence
Enemies unseen
I slipped their attempts
I try to stay aware
Yet, I am a target
Death, a presence
Ever close, waiting
Some how, I am still here
I have an angel, watching
Even as the worse events
play out
The end, appears close
Yet, I hear a voice saying
“Wait…endure….”
Even as my world is destroyed
Endure, as everything is taken
And, is gone…
I watch as the smoke ascents
Nothing left , just ashes and
Smoke..
In sack cloth, with ashes on my head
Repenting my life, and the moment
of my conception
I endured in my misery
And, then the light came… first
a beam then two angels to lift
me out of my sorrow
They spoke of forgiveness
They spoke of a new covenant
All that was, I will be blessed
with again
Not one life that was taken in
vain
Though, I knew their words were
true
As they took their leave of me
Still, I felt the pain
Of being
Human
The Material Lie
From the nothingness hope came
Like the vastness of space
And, just as uncertain
Is a belief without comprehension
To travel, to live in the moment
For a moment, may be all you possess
Search, for a understanding
Just outside your grasp
A feeling that so much is present
Yet, it is perception that is the key
That you seek, and is withheld
However, even in dispute it exist there
Like the light of a single candle
Glowing in the darkness, to remind you
That, though you can’t perceive it
Hope, elusive as it is, exists a prize to
found
The earth, though it appears a hell
To be suffered, as one of it denizens
Damned to endured, remaining
Alone, within your own cell
A cell of your own construction
Hope, is a possibility of a redemption
Of your own creation as well
The ability to finally see beyond the
construct
To understand the purpose, instead of
looking at materials that comprise it
In that moment, you finally see
The purpose, instead of the thing itself
You eyes will finally open, you exist within
the construct, yet not part of it
You finally gain perception, true perception
The blindness that afflicted you falls away
You finally understand, it was right in front
of you all along
The hope you had sought, was never something to found , searched for
It was within you from the beginning.
An Original Poem by H.R. Beebe
